


When Life Gives You Lemons

by ToiletPaperPrincess



Series: Miscellaneous Fics [12]
Category: Ranma 1/2
Genre: Awkwardness, Humor, Other, Story within a Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2019-01-20 01:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12421866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToiletPaperPrincess/pseuds/ToiletPaperPrincess
Summary: Kuno tasks Gosunkugi with writing him a love story.  For the sake of everything that is good and decent in this world, Gosunkugi should refuse.  But that's an awfully thick wad of cash...





	When Life Gives You Lemons

**Author's Note:**

> So a while back a friend joked that I should write a fic about Kuno bugging me to write him a fic, and it made me flash back on all of the terrible customers I've had to deal with as a freelance artist (everyone I've ever worked with for writing stuff has been great though, no worries :p ), and then I couldn't stop laughing, and this happened.
> 
> Instead of doing a self-insert story, I made the protagonist Hikaru Gosunkugi, mostly just so I could slip in my headcanon about him having an irrationally violent hatred of Sasuke cus when else am I gonna have a chance to write about that. (I adore them both but cannot BELIEVE that the anime never made any meta jokes about Sasuke starting out as Gosunkugi's replacement...)
> 
> Anyhow, this is dumb and silly and I hope you enjoy it.

Darkness lay across the house like a thick, black blanket.

Gosunkugi hadn’t bothered to switch on the lights when he came in—partly not to wake his parents, mostly force of habit—so his pale face and hands seemed to float, disembodied, in the gloom. He cradled the precious camera against his chest and giggled. So many excellent candids today. He might even have to start a new scrapbook.

“Oh, Akane Tendo,” he sighed, padding softly toward his own room. He automatically thought, as he always did when approaching a closed door, how wonderful it would be if _she_ were inside the room, waiting.

He giggled again as the fantasy played out. _“Oh, darling,”_ she might gasp with wide eyes, slightly embarrassed at getting caught. Maybe the window would be open, drapes fluttering in the breeze, to show how she’d gotten in. _“I just...I just had to see you,”_ she might mumble, blushing and averting her eyes. Gosunkugi’s heart thumped a steady drumbeat. _“I hope you don’t mind, Gosunkugi. Or... ‘Hikaru’...?”_

“Whatever you desire, o phantom of my heart,” Gosunkugi swooned aloud as he grasped the doorknob.

The door swung open.

Unsurprisingly, though disappointingly, Akane Tendo was not there. (Though the drapes _were_ fluttering.)

Gosunkugi’s shoulders slumped. Well, the law of averages had to be on his side _sometime_ , at least, right? Eventually one of the doors he’d open would lead to a room where Akane Tendo waited to—

A hand clapped over Gosunkugi’s mouth.

He had only the briefest instant of ecstasy before the chloroform-soaked handkerchief did its work and the boy collapsed. The camera clattered to the floor.

The handkerchief was very carefully stuffed back into a pocket, and a piece of paper very carefully extracted. It was unfolded, squinted at, muttered over, and then finally the shadowy figure flicked the lightswitch to make things not-so-shadowy.

“ _Ahem_ ,” coughed Sasuke, stepping carefully around Gosunkugi’s unconscious body. He glanced at the paper, nodded, then shut his eyes and pompously recited from memory.

“ _Mr. Hikaru Gosunkugi, alias ‘Voodoo Spike’, Freshman class 1-F at Furinkan High; you are cordially invited to the Kuno estate, at the behest of Lord Tatewaki Kuno, the Blue Thunder of Furinkan High, Rising Star of the Kendo World, et cetera, et cetera._ ” (That last bit was paraphrasing.) “ _Should you accept, a carriage shall promptly be called for you. But should you refuse, my messenger has the authority to knock you out and take you by for_...”

Here Sasuke trailed off, blinking his eyes open. He looked at the paper. He looked at the limp, obviously unhearing, boy on the floor.

“Oh my,” he chuckled, embarrassed. “I must have done the steps out of order...”

\---

Gosunkugi awoke with a jolt.

An already nervous temperament coupled with unexpected soreness (bruises from being clumsily dragged halfway across the city) sent him flying upright—collapsing on his face rather than springing to his feet as planned—and finally scrambling on all fours in desperate search of safety. But there didn’t seem to be a shred of cover in the whole room. It looked like an endless sea of tatami mats, the door a tiny rectangle in the distance.

“Hikaru Gosunkugi.”

He whirled around.

Unlike the other wall, this wall was very close. A beautiful _sumi_ landscape painting was stretched across it. It, unfortunately, had no door.

Tatewaki Kuno sat before him, kneeling regally upon three stacked cushions, as if that section of floor wasn’t _already_ raised several inches off the ground. Behind him and to the side, with no cushions, squatted Sasuke. Gosunkugi scowled. He’d always hated that ninja...

“Hikaru Gosunkugi,” Kuno bellowed again, rising to his feet. He gazed at Gosunkugi as if the boy were an ant. Gosunkugi started flailing backward again, then got embarrassed, and finally just slumped down on his butt on the floor.

“What’s up?” he decided to try.

Kuno frowned.

“Can you not at least _attempt_ to understand the gravity of this situation?” he pouted. “I will, of course, accept ‘Upperclassman Kuno’ in place of ‘Lord Kuno’, as we share the same _alma mater_ , but your flagrantly disrespectful posture is...well... _disrespectful!_ ”

Sasuke was frantically waving and pointing, indicating that Gosunkugi should adopt a more formal on-your-knees, legs-tucked-under-you pose. It irked him to have to follow the little man’s lead, but Gosunkugi complied. Maybe it would get him home sooner. It _was_ a school night.

“Much better.” Kuno puffed up considerably. “Now, on to business. Hikaru Gosunkugi, I require your services.”

A very, very long pause.

_“...for what?”_ Gosukugi was about to say when Kuno interjected, extremely petulantly, “You’re supposed to say ‘thank you’.”

Another pause.

“...for _what?_ ” Gosunkugi decided to say anyways, because it was still relevant.

Kuno huffed, turning his back to Gosunkugi and crossing his arms. “For _requesting your services_ , you utter nincompoop! It’s an extremely high honor!”

“Oh.”

Another pause.

“Thank you?” Gosunkugi finally said.

Kuno relaxed again, turning back around with a smug smile. Gosunkugi tried not to sigh. It was going to be a long night.

“You see, Hikaru Gosunkugi, I have it on great authority that you are a remarkable wordsmith. A weaver of prose with high marks in the writing course, and a diary whose lines flow like poetry.”

A hot shock coursed through Gosunkugi’s body as Kuno reached into the fold of his kimono and extracted a _very familiar-looking_ little book he’d thought lost. His body was telling him simultaneously that he should shriek with rage and also throw up. The contradiction left him paralyzed, and Kuno began to read.

“ _March 14. Akane Tendo’s eyeballs graced me yet again with their gaze. I felt it upon me like a cascade of warm summer rain. ‘Did you do the math homework?’ emanated from her soft, sweet lips. ‘I had trouble with question seven.’ As if she could struggle! But I suppose that makes her mortal, so much more wonderfully accessible than some indescribably perfect goddess._

“ _I was about to answer, to accept the cry for help that implied ‘I need you’, when what should happen but Sayuri blurted out a reply from behind me. Had Akane Tendo been speaking to HER all along? If that were so, it would truly rend my heart in two..._ ”

Gosunkugi didn’t shriek or throw up, but his whole body was shaking. Sasuke was red-cheeked and dreamy-eyed, sighing wistfully over the recitation. Of course _he’d_ stolen it. Gosunkugi’s fingernails raked into the tatami mat. That vile ninja! Did he shave his head just so Gosunkugi wouldn’t be able to make voodoo dolls with his hair??

Kuno snapped the book shut, startling Gosunkugi out of his rage. “Give it back,” he whimpered, but too quietly to hear.

Predictably, the diary was slipped back into Kuno’s kimono.

“I have a commission for you.”

Gosunkugi blinked.

A _what?_

“A prose work in the romantic genre,” Kuno went on. “A short, sweet, ‘pure’ love story between myself and the pigtailed girl. I shall meet you on the roof after school tomorrow to receive the finished copy. Do we have a deal?”

Gosunkugi blinked again.

He’d never really thought of himself as a writer. School assignments were done only for the sake of a grade, and he kept that diary only so he could romantically reveal the long-reaching saga of their love story to Akane once she finally started going out with him.

Besides...a romance about _Kuno?_ The mere thought of it made him want to throw up again. Sure, the guy was handsome, and being good at martial arts probably made some people swoon, but that only counted for so much against his terrible personality. At least he wanted Gosunkugi to write about that strange girl with the braid, which wouldn’t be half as disgusting as having to write about Kuno making eyes at the love of his life Akane Tendo, but...that is...in the spirit of _good taste_ if nothing else...

Sasuke coughed meaningfully. Kuno rolled his eyes, reached back into his kimono, and threw something in front of Gosunkugi.

He’d hoped it was his diary.

It was a very thick wad of cash.

“Do we have a deal?” Kuno asked again.

He’d be able to buy a new scrapbook, and several rolls of film besides. The diary could always be stolen back later.

“Yeah, okay,” said Gosunkugi—then, at the look in Kuno’s eyes, amended, “Indubitably, my good lord Kuno.”

\---

_The cherry blossom petals carpeted the road a pale pink. Every footfall made a delicate rustle._

_Tatewaki Kuno strode briskly to school, thoughts of defeating ~~goddamn~~ Ranma Saotome flittering around his head like mosquitoes. He swatted at them._

_“Oh, what a pest,” he grumbled, tripping over the sidewalk in his annoyance. A splash of rain from the last night’s rainfall ~~got him in the crotch so it looked like he’d wet his pants~~ soiled the hem of his hakama pants._

_“ALAS!” cried Kuno, throwing his arms up ~~over~~ dramatically. “Must I be plagued by such—”_

_“Oh! Oh, my!”_

_An angelic voice wafted to him on a breeze._

_Kuno’s eyes widened. The most beautiful girl he’d ever seen—the only girl he’d ever want or pursue for the rest of his life ~~please~~ —was traipsing toward him in a soft shower of cherry blossoms. Delicate tears trailed from her eyes, her face an agony of sweet, innocent anguish. She collapsed to her knees, apparently uncaring that she’d splashed right into the puddle ~~and doused Kuno’s crotch so it looked like he’d wet his pa~~ and soaked her pretty skirt._

_“You poor dear,” whispered The Pigtailed Girl, patting at Kuno’s stained hemline with a handkerchief._

_Could she have realized that this dainty action brought her head just beneath Kuno’s own as she bent to her work? He inhaled the scent of her shampoo. Strawberry. A perfect ~~compliment~~ complement to her lustrous red hair._

_“Why should you worry yourself over me, fair maiden?” Kuno breathed huskily into her hair._

_She gazed up at him, all glistening, watery eyes._

_“Don’t you know?” The Pigtailed Girl asked._

_~~He started stripping immediately because this is goddamn Kuno we’re talking abou~~ _ _Nodding, an understanding flowing between them deeper than words, Kuno slipped his hand into hers._

_“Yes,” Kuno said, and they walked on together._

\---

“Her shampoo isn’t strawberry.”

Gosunkugi started, the self-satisfied grin wobbling off of his face.

Kuno’s gaze was piercing.

“It’s not strawberry,” he repeated, throwing the stack of papers onto the floor. “It’s more of...hmmm...” He pursed his lips. “A ‘musky’ smell...?”

“S-sorry,” replied Gosunkugi, dropping to his knees to rifle through the papers. He found the offending line, crossed out “Strawberry”, wrote “Musk”, and for good measure decided that it was a perfect complement to “her aura of animalistic strength”.

“And I would _never_ trip over a sidewalk. Even when distracted by manly thoughts of fighting, my balance is impeccable. Soiling my own clothing would be impossible.”

Gosunkugi was too offended even to giggle at “soiling my own clothing”. Sure, it had been the only thing he could think of while frantically scribbling out the story under his desk during class, but it was still a good idea. Feeling humiliated by a clumsy accident? And then the girl deliberately kneels into the same puddle because she’s more worried about _you_ than herself? It was perfect and wonderful and exactly the kind of thing Gosunkugi would fantasize about (because he had stepped into a puddle just that morning and had been fantasizing nonstop about that kind of thing ever since).

“Well, that’s kind of the entire plot,” he mumbled petulantly. “It’d be a whole different story if I changed _that_.”

“Then make it so.”

Just as Gosunkugi was about to protest, Kuno threw down another wad of bills. It was nearly the same size as the first.

“All right,” Gosunkugi sighed, clutching it to his chest before Kuno could change his mind. “I’ll have it for you tomorrow.”

\---

_The cherry blossom petals carpeted the road a pale pink. Every footfall made a delicate rustle._

_Tatewaki Kuno strode briskly to school, thoughts of defeating Ranma Saotome flittering around his head like mosquitoes. He swatted at them._

_“Oh, what a pest,” he grumbled—and stopped walking._

_Kuno’s eyes widened. The most beautiful girl he’d ever seen—definitely the only girl he’d ever want or pursue for the rest of his life—was crouched among the cherry petals, shaking like a samba. Delicate tears trailed from her eyes, her face an agony of sweet, innocent anguish. She had apparently splashed right into ~~the same puddle~~ a puddle from last night’s rain, soaking her pretty skirt._

_“You poor dear,” whispered Kuno, reaching into his kimono for a handkerchief._

_This dainty action brought his head close to the top of that of The Pigtailed Girl. He inhaled the scent of her shampoo. Musk. A perfect ~~compliment~~ complement to her aura of animalistic strength._

_~~“Why should you worry yourself over me, fair maiden?” Kuno breathed huski~~ _

_She gazed up at him, all glistening, watery eyes._

_“Why should you worry yourself over me, handsome sir?” The Pigtailed Girl breathed huskily as she accepted the handkerchief and began wiping her soiled skirt ~~because obviously Kuno wouldn’t be bothered to~~_

_“Don’t you know?” Kuno asked._

_Nodding, an understanding flowing between them deeper than words, The Pigtailed Girl slipped her hand into his._

_“Yes,” ~~Kuno~~ The Pigtailed Girl said, and they walked on together._

\---

Gosunkugi had managed to figure out a way to rewrite the story without changing too much of it, but erasing and writing on the original pages looked too messily obvious, and he _really_ didn’t want Kuno to demand back his wad of cash, so Gosunkugi sat down and copied it over. Between that, doing his homework, and copying from the textbook all the notes he’d missed while writing the first draft in class that day, it took him most of the night.

It turned out to be the right call, because Kuno accosted him in the courtyard that morning instead of waiting for afternoon again as had (Gosunkugi thought) been implied. But it didn’t feel like the right call. Gosunkugi was swaying, bleary-eyed, as Kuno flipped through his masterpiece.

“What utter buffoonery is _this?_ ” Kuno demanded, slapping him across the face with the story. It was only a few pages, but Gosunkugi being Gosunkugi, it sent him staggering back anyways.

“D-don’t you like it?”

“ _Like_ it? It’s _incompetent!_ Now, of course I am as ardent an admirer of the pigtailed maiden as any pure and true man could be—but why is the story about _her_ and not about _Akane Tendo??_ ”

There had been no strike this time, but Gosunkugi staggered back again. “ _What?_ ”

Kuno rolled his eyes, throwing his arms in the air. “ _Akane Tendo!_ I commissioned you to write a romantic tale about myself and _Akane Tendo!_ ”

The courtyard was fast emptying, the students all scurrying off to class a full ten minutes early. Whenever _that_ name echoed around in Tatewaki Kuno’s voice, trouble was surely afoot.

“N-no you didn’t!” Gosunkugi sputtered, staggering forward just for a change of pace. He stopped to consider only for an instant. He was groggy, and had been groggy when Kuno had made the proposal thanks to that goddamn ninja’s chloroform. It was entirely possible that he’d forgotten. But he was _pretty_ sure that Kuno had asked for the girl who looked weirdly like Ranma, because he was pretty sure he remembered feeling relieved that he _hadn’t_ asked for Akane.

“Don’t you contradict me, Hikaru Gosunkugi.”

“But you—”

Suddenly he noticed that Kuno’s hand was hovering dangerously close to his sword hilt. (Wooden or not, why was he even allowed to have that at school??)

Gosunkugi pursed his lips and shut up.

“And another thing.” Kuno crossed his arms and shut his eyes, and for a split second Gosunkugi thought he might have a chance to duck around Kuno and bolt for the school door. But then Kuno glared right at him, pinning him to the spot. “The story mentions that I am heading ‘to school’. That is preposterous and needs to be changed. I would not be going to school in the Warring States era, I would be a wandering samurai nobleman traveling from town to town saving fair maidens from hardship. Please get it right this time.”

Gosunkugi was smacked in the face again, and this time he completely fell down, paper money scattering on the ground about him like cherry blossom petals.

He was late to class.

\---

_~~FUCKING GODDAMN KUNO I HATE YOU I HATE YOU FUCKDAMN FUCK FUCK~~ _

_The cherry blossom petals carpeted the road a pale pink. Every footfall made a delicate rustle._

_Tatewaki Kuno strode briskly ~~to school~~ to wander around and save fair maidens from hardship because he was a ~~saumrai~~ samurai in the Warring States era. Boy was he a samurai in the Warring States era all right. Thoughts of defeating that evil Warring States warlord guy Ranma Saotome ~~flittering~~ flittered around his head like ~~FUCKING GODDAMN~~ mosquitoes. He swatted at them._

_“Oh, what a pest,” he grumbled—and stopped walking._

_Kuno’s eyes widened. The most beautiful girl he’d ever seen ~~definitely NOT the only girl he’d ever want or pursue for the rest of his life though~~ was crouched among the cherry petals, shaking like a ~~samba~~ traditional Japanese folk dance from the Warring States era ~~I DON’T KNOW THE NAMES OF ANY ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME~~. Delicate tears trailed from her eyes, her face an agony of sweet, innocent anguish. She had apparently splashed right into ~~the same GODDAMN puddle SO MANY PUDDLES~~ a puddle from last night’s rain, soaking her pretty ~~skirt~~ Warring States era style kimono._

_“You poor dear,” whispered Kuno, reaching into his kimono for a handkerchief ~~god I hope they used handkerchiefs back then~~_

\---

“Hikaru Gosunkugi,” said Kuno, clapping a hand down on Gosunkugi’s shoulder in a terrifyingly friendly way as school let out for the day.

“ _NOT YET!_ ” shrieked Gosunkugi. He actually _slithered out of his jacket_ , an effective if stupid way of escaping Kuno’s grip, and sprinted away down the stairs.

\---

_~~I’LL KILL YOU~~ _

_This dainty action brought his head close to the top of that of ~~The Pigtai~~ AKANE TENDO. He inhaled the scent of the Warring States era equivalent of shampoo. Musk. A perfect ~~compliment~~ complement to her aura of animalistic strength._

_She gazed up at him, all glistening, watery eyes._

_“Why should you worry yourself over me, handsome sir?” ~~The Pigt~~ AKANE TENDO breathed huskily as she accepted the handkerchief and began wiping her soiled Warring States era style kimono ~~YOU ASSHOLE AT LEAST WIPE IT FOR HER DON’T JUST GIVE HER THE FUCKING HANDKERCHIEF WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU I HATE YOU~~_

_“Don’t you know?” Kuno asked._

_Nodding, an understanding flowing between them deeper than words, The Pigtailed Girl slipped her hand into his._

_“Yes,” MY DARLING AKANE TENDO said, and they walked on together._

\---

Sunlight softly filtered into the room. Dust motes drifted lazily around like dull fireflies.

Gosunkugi’s hand stung from his tight grip on his pencil, back and face aching from spending the night asleep on his desk. But he _had_ slept, and he felt a lot better.

His mother, upon seeing him hobble stiffly out of his chair when she came to wake him, even offered to call him in sick to school. His mood improved further. Gosunkugi even, whistling, wrote out a clean copy of the story without the crossed-out profanities before staggering to his bed.

The mood broke when his mother interrupted him again around lunchtime with news that he had a visitor. He got only the barest moment of hope that it might be Akane before—of course—his mother ushered in that damn ninja.

“Pardon me, eheh, I’m not used to coming in through a front door,” Sasuke flustered, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Gosunkugi bit his lip and glared. He wished he’d thought to change out of his pajamas. “Anyway, I have hereby arrived from Master Kuno’s estate to see if the—?”

“ _Here,_ ” Gosunkugi snapped, thrusting the papers into Sasuke’s hands. He had to fumble to get a good grip on them.

“Oh, thank you!” Sasuke bowed, almost dropped the papers, then turned and bowed to Gosunkugi’s mother. “And thank you too, ma’am. Have a wonderful day.”

“Creep,” Gosunkugi grumbled, and his mother gave him a scolding rap on the shoulder.

\---

Within the hour, Sasuke was back, tumbling through the doorway sweating and panting. Gosunkugi was furious. He was still wearing his pajamas.

“P- _please_ excuse me,” Sasuke gasped, collapsing to his hands and knees in a degradingly low bow. “Master Kuno...h-h-he...”

It took nearly a minute for the ninja to catch enough breath to stammer out a full sentence.

“Akane Tendo—um—” Sasuke screwed his eyes shut, trying to remember. “Akane Tendo doesn’t smell like musk. And, um—Ranma Saotome ‘would most certainly not be a warlord’? I hope you understand what he means by that?”

Gosunkugi’s clenched fists shook by his sides.

“But, um, uh, the most—I think the main point was—Master Kuno insists he doesn’t want a ‘cute meet’ story. He wants something, um.” Here Sasuke’s exertion-flushed face burned a deeper shade of red. “Something. ‘ _More spicy_ ’. U-um. B-b-but not explicitly so, I’m s-sure.”

There was a very long pause.

Gosunkugi sucked in a deep, slow breath through his nose.

Finally Gosunkugi thrust out his hand. Sasuke flinched instinctively.

“ _And?_ ” Gosunkugi prompted, twitching his fingers in a sort of grabby motion.

“And, uh—” Gosunkugi hadn’t thought it possible, but Sasuke managed to bow _even lower_. “Uh...because of the delay in your, um...w-with all the ‘not following his instructions’...Master Kuno requests that you return a portion of his paym—”

Gosunkugi’s mother had to actually restrain him.

\---

He wasn’t going to do it.

He’d planned on not doing it.

But because he’d spent so much of the day snoozing in bed, Gosunkugi found himself awake at night pacing the floor.

He’d found, upon returning to his room after dinner, his diary wedged in the crack between his window and the windowsill, paper bills peppered throughout it like bookmarks. He couldn’t imagine Kuno voluntarily returning the diary, but the thought of it coming from Sasuke made him boil over with rage. That ninja was always getting in his way. Gosunkugi had hated him ever since he’d approached Kuno excitedly about discovering Ranma Saotome’s greatest weakness—cats, apparently?—and pitching a plan to lure Ranma into a pit full of cats in the gym. Apparently _Sasuke_ had _already tried that_ and Gosunkugi had been berated for being unoriginal. He’d thought up that plan _all by himself_ , thanks! Not to mention all the times he’d found Sasuke crouched in _his_ hiding spots, taking photos of _his_ Akane Tendo, even using the exact same brand of camera as _his!_ What the hell????

Focusing his hatred on Sasuke helped distract him from his unbridled fury at Kuno, but it didn’t really solve anything. He was still kind of too scared _not_ to deliver a story. Kuno might, more or less justifiedly, demand his money back. And Kuno was more than capable of beating him up. He wouldn’t even need to use a sword for that.

But, to...t-to write a “ _spicy story_ ” about Kuno and Akane Tendo...!

Gosunkugi shoved almost his entire hand into his mouth and bit down.

He couldn’t. He...just...

_“Oh no,”_ phantom Akane whispered, clutching desperately at his bedsheets as if they could shield her, _“are you g-going to touch me THERE, Gosunkugi?”_

He bit so hard he drew blood.

“Okay, Akane Tendo,” he mumbled, “for _you_ ,” and sat down to write.

\---

_A peal of thunder echoed across the land with the clarity of a pot banged upon by a thousand wooden spoons. The Warring States era Kuno estate rattled upon its very foundation._

_Warring States era samurai Tatewaki Kuno smacked his dumb ninja across the face. “How dare you disrupt my slumber!” he boomed, louder than the very thunder. He was still in his Warring States era ~~equivalent for~~ pajamas, the sheets thrown carelessly off his futon. The relentless drumming of rainfall had made it hard enough for him to fall asleep, and yet this fool—!_

_“A million bazillion pardons, master,” whined the nameless ninja. “But a young lady in distress is at the door, and I can’t do anything myself so I had to ask you before letting her i—”_

_Kuno smacked the dumb ninja across the face backhand. “And you left a young lady in distress outside in this raging storm?? You’ve made your final mistake. Let her in and plague me no more!”_

_The ninja bowed and scampered off and left forever ~~cus he had to do seppuk~~_

_~~no no that’s kinda crossing the line right~~ _

_~~he just had to leave the house and not come back~~ _

_~~but he could totally have fallen off a cliff the next day~~ _

_~~who knows~~ _

_~~anyways~~ _

_Kuno dressed hurriedly—and a bit clumsily, as it was a task he was unused to doing himself. But he could hardly greet a lady in his sleepwear. The mere thought of it made his ~~di~~ heart throb._

_He hadn’t quite finished wrapping his obi sash when he heard the sound._

Plish.

Plish.

Pliiiiiishshhhhhhshh—

_Soggy footsteps transitioned into a slide, and the lady in distress had to catch herself against the bedroom doorframe to retain her balance._

_Though sopping wet, hair and heavy kimono plastered to her slim frame, she remained the most beautiful woman ~~Gosun~~ Kuno had ever laid his ~~unworthy~~ eyes upon. Pale alabaster skin. Thick black hair in an alluringly anachronistic short-cropped style. And so thoroughly wracked with guilt that she couldn’t meet his gaze, keeping hers fixed on the tatami matted floor._

_“Please excuse me,” she gasped, “I’m so_ wet— _”, and crumpled to the ground._

\---

Gosunkugi was startled awake—once again slouched over his desk, hand knotted tight around his pencil—by his mother knocking on the door. He and his excruciatingly painful back pleaded that he was still sick. His mother wasn’t having it and explained exactly what would happen if he didn’t go.

So Gosunkugi hopped awkwardly around the room, trying to retain all the insistent plot bunnies scurrying in and out of his ears while struggling into his uniform (sans the jacket he’d left in Kuno’s grasp two days back). He forewent breakfast to sprint out the door, planning to sit down in an empty classroom and scribble as fast as his poor little hand could manage before the bell rang. He splashed directly into a puddle. He didn’t notice.

\---

_Dropping the untied obi sash entirely, ~~Gosun~~ Kuno started toward the heaving bundle of sobs._

_“P-please,” Akane moaned, weeping into her hands while still, perfectly proper as ever, attempting to position herself into a bow. “I’m so incredibly sorry for ruining your floors with my unforgivably damp footprints. But the st-storm broke just as I was traveling to my father’s dojo—and my horrible unwanted fiancée Ranma Saotome abandoned me at the crossroads—”_

_“I’ll have him slain in the morning,” Kuno murmured comfortingly._

_“—and then I tripped and fell into a puddle, and—and—and—”_

_“Shhhhhh.”_

_Kuno did the unthinkable and dropped to his knees. A proud samurai lord brought low by the shaking cries of a wronged woman...realizing the selflessness of the gesture, Akane’s tears halted their flow. She glanced up, glistening wet eyes searching Kuno’s face._

_He graced her with a tender smile._

_She blushed, looking away. But averting her gaze from his face meant that she caught sight of ~~Gosun~~ Kuno’s bare, very very muscular chest, as his unsecured kimono was flapping wide open. She squealed—_

\---

Miss Hinako (child-sized) slapped a ruler down on Gosunkugi’s desk.

He surreptitiously covered the raciest passage with his forearm before glancing up.

“Mr. Gosunkugi,” she huffed, twirling the ruler like a baton. “You gotta _lotta_ nerve! It’s math class, not writing class!”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, not actually having heard most of the words. The sounds from Warring States era Kuno’s estate were filling his ears.

“An’ your _jacket!_ Where’s’it? You’re gonna haveta buy one from the school store if you lost—”

“’kay,” he mumbled, pulling a handful of commission money out of his pocket. He wasn’t even looking at Miss Hinako now, just gazing glassy-eyed at the page.

Miss Hinako fumed, and waved the bills around, but eventually rolled her eyes and stuffed them down the front of her shirt and announced that _only this once_ would she do it for him because she was _such a nice lady_ and he was usually a good student. And the other kids took the chance to tease her, and she rose to the bait, and Gosunkugi had enough cover to keep on working.

\---

_—but found herself unable to look away._

_“Don’t be frightened,” purred ~~Gosun~~ Kuno. He extended a hand—the poor, sweet young thing, she flinched as though she were about to be hit—and delicately touched his fingertip to her cheek, softly trailing it down her face. Akane’s eyes drifted shut, her lower lip trembling like a leaf in a winter’s breeze._

_The touch had moistened them both—Kuno’s fingertip was awash with rainwater._

_“Now, now. This won’t do. You must remove those damp clothes.”_

_Akane blushed more deeply, pulling away. Kuno chuckled gently._

_“Come now, don’t be afraid.” He touched her face again, the entire palm this time, cradling her soft, damp cheek within his warm touch. “ ~~I may be an insatiably perverted skirt-chaser with no concept of boundaries but~~_

_~~keep it together Hikaru~~ _

_“I’m not afraid of you.”_

_The sound was so soft ~~Gosun~~ Kuno almost wasn’t sure he’d heard it. It could have been the flutter of an angel’s wing._

_Akane’s face was still a rosy pink when she looked at him again, but—the longing in her eyes—the firm grip of her fingers around his hand, the one in which he cupped her cheek—_

_“I’m afraid of me,” she stated, closing the gap between them. “And what I plan to do to_ you. _”_

\---

Lunchtime rolled around at last.

“ _Hikaru Gosunkugi!_ ” boomed Kuno from across the hall. Students parted before him like a wave as he stalked toward the frantically muttering boy. His hand fell on Gosunkugi’s shoulder, much less friendly this time. “I trust that you’ve—”

Gosunkugi turned to meet his gaze so suddenly that Kuno gave a start.

Gosunkugi’s eyes were wide and haunted.

“ _I’m in the zone,_ ” he whispered.

Kuno let go and stumbled back, then started preening like it was what he’d meant to do all along.

\---

_Akane Tendo moved faster than the eye could see._

_She smothered ~~Gosun~~ ~~Ku~~ ~~noooooooo no I can’t no~~ the man’s mouth with kisses, tackling him backward onto the floor in a shower of rainwater. The excruciating pain in ~~my~~ his back went unnoticed under the ravenous affection. Her arms twined around his back like that snake that crushes its prey to death, squeezing him to her. The motion smushed her boobs against him oh god even through a thick multilayer kimono goddddd as she ~~bit~~ kissed his mouth a lot._

_She was definitely a martial arts master cus she was totally domming and ~~I~~ he was super into it. Fingernails like claws. That’s gonna leave a mark in the morning. Finally she tore herself away from the kisses and picked the guy up and threw him onto the bed and climbed in after him and did a hickey on his neck._

_“You’re delicious,” she giggled._

_He smiled at the ~~complement~~ compliment._

\---

Ukyo’s nails dug into her desk.

She’d peeped around Gosunkugi from sheer curiosity at what the guy in front of her was so frantically writing during class, but had found herself swept up in the story (such as there was).

_Um_ , she thought, pressing a hand to her flaming red face, unable to look away. _Wow_.

\---

_The kimono still hadn’t dried when the sun eventually crept upwards over the horizon. Akane shivered, squirming inside it, and sneezed._

_“Oh no,” said Kuno, untying ~~my~~ his hands from the bedpost. “Are you catching a cold, my darling?”_

_She nodded, embarrassed. “It must be from being so wet last night,” she said, and blushed as she giggled. Then she sneezed again and moaned._

_“Would you mind,” Akane asked, shy again, “if I stayed here a while? Just until my cold is better.”_

_He wrapped his arms around her._

_“You can stay longer than that,” he said, “Mrs. ~~Gosun~~ Kuno.”_

_Akane’s eyes filled with ~~tears~~ happy tears. Then she gasped. “But Ranma—!”_

_“I killed him last night while you were sleeping.”_

_“Oh, thank god.” Akane sighed, returning the hug. “I hope you won’t mind doing what we did last night a bunch more.”_

_“Just so long as it’s every night...for the rest of our lives.”_

_THE END._

\---

Darkness lay across the school like a thick, black blanket.

For a third time Gosunkugi found himself asleep at a desk, his school desk this time, no one having thought to wake him when classes ended. Someone _had_ draped a brand new jacket over him like a death shroud, which actually made him laugh. The same couldn’t be said for the note slipped under his head reading “You’re kind of a freak but keep up the good work”, but, well, you can’t win them all.

Kuno wasn’t on the roof—understandably, as the sun was setting and even the after-school clubs had gone home—so Gosunkugi packed his things and plodded to a bus stop. Of course his first order of business, once he sat down, was to scrawl out a copy of “the good part” of the story with “he”s changed to “I”s. Then, after a lot of deliberation and self-consciousness and finally a heavy, world-weary sigh, he removed the ninja scene.

In the dark, Kuno’s house was difficult to find but impossible to miss. The mailbox flap rattled. Paper rustled.

And Gosunkugi went on his merry way.

\---

Gosunkugi didn’t bother to switch on the lights when he came in, so his pale face and hands seemed to float, disembodied, in the gloom. His arms were loaded down with shopping bags—a new scrapbook, several rolls of film, even a fancy new zoom lens and a fancy new camera to go with it. And a blank diary to exercise his newfound erotica skillz in.

“Oh, Hikaru Gosunkugi, you _dog_ ,” he sighed, padding softly toward his own room. Thoughts of possible Akane Tendos behind that closed door competed noisily for his attention. His probably carpal-tunnel-ridden hand throbbed when he turned the doorknob, but he couldn’t wait to curl his fingers around a pencil again.

The drapes were fluttering.

Someone was seated primly on his bed, expecting him.

It was Kuno. But Gosunkugi’s heart thudded all the same.

“My dear Hikaru Gosunkugi,” he said in a low tone that had the boy glancing frantically around the room for possible chloroform-carrying ninjas, “do you know, truly _know_ , what you hath wrought?”

No ninja. None that Gosunkugi could see, anyway, and the point of a ninja was to _not_ be seen, so that did nothing to alleviate his anxiety.

“What _hath_ I wrought?” Gosunkugi mumbled, clutching his ill-gotten gains to his chest.

The moments ticked by slowly, inexorably slowly, as Kuno rose to his feet. Never breaking eye contact, he strode purposefully toward Gosunkugi, even as Gosunkugi unconsciously shuffled back until he was up against the wall.

Kuno’s hands fell heavily on Gosunkugi’s shoulders.

“ _You hath wrought a work of art,_ ” Kuno whispered, his eyes brimming with tears.

Gosunkugi found himself yanked into a brisk hug that almost crushed the camera. But it only lasted for a brief instant before Kuno thrust him back out at arm’s length.

“It was so _moving!_ The tender warmth with which you graced the page— _ah!_ ” Kuno gestured wildly with his hand. “I could truly feel Akane Tendo’s love in your words! And the clever reversal of the dominant roles, so inspired! I forgive all your former trespasses as they’ve resulted in a work of true grace and beauty. Nay, I _applaud_ you!”

A shy smile bloomed on Gosunkugi’s face, which he tried to hide behind the shopping bags. “O-oh, really? Th-th-thanks...”

Kuno gave him a thumping pat on the back, which almost had Gosunkugi stumbling into the other boy’s muscular chest. The impromptu blush was harder to conceal. Damn, writing a spicy fantasy with Kuno as his fictional proxy was playing hell with his demisexuality.

“I still have your diary, have I not?” Kuno boomed, thankfully oblivious. “I’ll have Sasuke return it immediately. The fool should never have intruded on your privacy by absconding with it when I’d sent him to spy on you.”

A final thump on the back, this one actually sending Gosunkugi lurching several steps into a face-first collapse on his bed. (The precious packages luckily made a soft landing on his pillow.) Gosunkugi shook his head, groaning, trying to push himself onto his elbows.

“ _One more thing_.”

Gosunkugi froze.

The words had come in _extremely_ close to his ear.

“Write me another one,” muttered Kuno, his body a hulking mass of warmth above and behind, gently sliding a wad of bills into Gosunkugi’s jacket pocket, and for god’s sake even a truly heterosexual boy would be swallowing his own spit in this situation. “Make it a _ménage a trois._ ”

Gosunkugi’s soul shot right out of his body. “ _OH?_ ”

“Myself, Akane Tendo, and the pigtailed girl.”

It shot right back in. “ _Oh._ ”

Fortunately Kuno stood up right then, and walked himself to the still-open window, because Gosunkugi was in no condition to do either.

“Until we meet again, Hikaru Gosunkugi,” Kuno said, and flashed a sparkling smile before climbing out.

The drapes fluttered in the breeze.

The diary had tumbled out of Gosunkugi’s shopping bag, flipped open to a blank page, taunting him. His school bag packed with textbooks and homework and unwritten class notes crushed under him, digging into his ribcage, taunting him further.

Gosunkugi let out a slow, whimpering sigh.

Kuno’s head popped back into view.

“We shall meet again tomorrow morning,” he clarified. “I expect at least two thousand words and one subplot. Good night.”


End file.
